


Belonging

by dontshootmespence



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace Play (Supernatural), Dubious Consent, F/M, Light Bondage, Mirror Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23232994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontshootmespence/pseuds/dontshootmespence
Summary: Rebekah begs Michael for a reminder of who she belongs to; without it, she will crumble.Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)
Relationships: Michael (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	Belonging

Forever.

Always.

Michael’s words roll through her like a wave, crashing along the shore, only to return to the sea; to doubt. Amidst the fog of the alcohol that courses through her, it seeps into her very pores - the guilt. No matter what choice she makes now, it will be wrong. For her. For Sam and Dean. For the world. 

If that’s the case, her only wish is to not be aware of the pain. She needs the reminder - his hand on her throat, his body flush against hers, his whispers in her ear - she needs him. They wash away the guilt and allow her to be - to be without the pain that weighs her down otherwise. 

Slamming the glass against the hardwood table, she runs toward the opposing end of the apartment they occupy, where Michael stands on the balcony. He needs no interruptions, but without him, she wavers, and she can no longer afford to, for her sake and the sake of her sanity. “What is it, My Chosen?” He turns by degrees, his eyes fixed on hers, yet his mind is somewhere else. Carefully crafting his plans.

Fear courses through her. Not of him, but of uncertainty. “I still doubt, Sir. And I don’t want to.” Quickly, she closes the space between them, shutting out the world save for what is directly in front of her. In the forest green of his eyes, she’s lost - no desire to return. “Please. I need you to remind me who I belong to.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “So simple,” he says, finger pushing away a strand of chestnut colored hair. His other arm rests on the small of her back, two bodies gently swaying back and forth, her doubt fading. 

“Will you, Sir? Please,” she breathes against him. Her voice sounds so small, so opposed to the woman she was.

She knows his plans are of the utmost importance, but he insists she’s part of them, and without his touch she will crumble under the weight of her doubt. 

Michael turns toward the bedroom without a word, her hand clasped in his. Behind him, she follows with a contented smile, willing to accept whatever reminder he has in store. 

With a flick of his hand, a mirror appears across from bed. The cherry wood is ornate and sleek; its simplicity captivating. Before she can say a word, ask any questions, he turns her gaze toward his and presses her body against his. His lips glide over hers, as he breathes his being into her. She is his Chosen. 

Rebekah’s calm demeanor gives way to desperation when his hands touch her skin. Clothing falls to the floor until she is bare before him. His tongue probes her mouth and he lifts her into his arms as easily as a doll. Groaning into him, Rebekah feels a familiar warmth wash over her - a calming ecstasy she craves like a drug. “Please, Sir.”

Michael lifts her onto the bed and flips her over so she is on all fours facing the mirror. The stark contrast between her lack of clothing and his crisp suit makes her feel small in a way only he can. 

In the mirror, she meets his gaze, losing herself in the bright blue glow that fills them. A recognizable heat binds her wrists together behind her back, gently pulling her back until she’s kneeling. Despite the lack of binds, she’s bound to him - mind, body and soul.

“You know you are My Chosen,” he says softly, words falling over her like a blanket. “I cannot make good on my plans for this world without you by my side.”

A sigh escapes her as the words bubble up from her throat. “Your Chosen…”

The click of his belt sends a delicious jolt through her body. He presses himself at her entrance, slipping all the way in without any resistance. 

“Your Chosen…”

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “You want the reminder - you will watch.”

As his cock slams into her over and over again, her mouth goes slack, mind blank. She tunes out everything except for the wet slapping of skin against skin, and the melodic sound of his voice.

“Who do you belong to?” He asks, roughly driving his cock into her cunt as his hand snakes around her throat. “Look at yourself and tell me.”

Whimpering, Rebekah goes to open her mouth, but nothing comes out, his voice and touch overwhelming her. “Y-you..” She manages.

The word isn’t enough and she knows it. She thrusts backward onto his cock, choking out the words he wants to hear. “I belong to you, Michael. I belong to you.”

“Our cause is just.” His hand massages the column of her throat; in an instant, he could end her in a million different ways, but he chooses not to - because she is his.

“Our cause is…just,” she responds, her voice somehow far away. “I believe in you, Michael.”

A low, satisfied chuckle rumbles against the back of her neck. “Beautiful. Look at yourself, my love.” 

In her ecstasy, she hadn’t even realized she’d closed them. When she sees herself in the mirror, she smirks. She belongs here. “I’m yours, Michael.”

Chuckling, he lightly bites at her pulse point, reveling in the feel of her coming undone around his cock - pulled apart and broken down, by him, for him. 

“Mine.”


End file.
